Eugie · Foster's · Self-Indulgent · Musings

Hope all who celebrate it had a fabu Thanksgiving!

Not much accomplished over the four-day holiday at Chez Foster. fosteronfilm had a cold/sinus malaise and Hobkin had an upset tummy, which resulted in me not doing much in general aside from comforting and playing nurse to both.

Whenever Hobkin's sick or scared, he demands to be cuddled against my chest, with his head wedged beneath my chin, rather than just curling up at my side or in my lap. I think he finds the sound of my heartbeat soothing, and skunks in general (or perhaps it's only Hobkin), seem to find being pressed between/against something comforting. Maybe since they live in borrows underground in the wild, pressed in hole=safe.

So I spent a good portion of the last four days propped on the couch with eight pounds of snoring fuzziness flopped on my chest, trying to balance my laptop on my stomach so I could get some work done. And those were the times when Hobkin was snoozing flat instead of lolling to one side, requiring me to use an arm to balance him in place—else he'd roll right off in his sleep and blame me for it (yes, that's happened before)—and thereby forcing me to type one-handed. It's hard enough typing using both hands with a skunk lying on me; I can't see over him, so if I lose the home keys, if I can't find them again by touch, I'm pretty much plum out of luck.

A couple of times, Hobkin flopped on Matthew instead of me, and I couldn't resist taking a picture of my two ailing boys (with my grainy, less-than-one-pixel-lame cell phone camera, alas):

I feel sort of remiss that I didn't post a "Things I am Thankful For" Thanksgiving day post, as has been my tradition, but the day itself sort of slipped by me. Like last year, health issues conspired to make the holiday low key—although this year they weren't mine but Matthew and Hobkin's. But I think it's good to remind myself that I have much to be thankful for. So herein my belated "Things I am Thankful For" list; it's essentially a reprise of my 2006 list, but I am no less thankful two years later:

1. For my husband, Matthew, my best friend, love of my life, and soul mate. He cherishes me as I am, even with all my flaws and foibles. I am stronger because of his support and better because of his example.
2. For Hobkin, for making our house a home and reminding me that dignity is overrated, especially compared to laughter.
3. For family and friends: near, far, offline, and on.
4. For my health. Even as crappy as it is, it could be and has been much worse. And despite all the rips and worn spots in my human suit, it works well enough to keep me going—which is more than many people are able to say.
5. That I have the freedom and ability to chase my bliss and tell the stories that fill my days with magic.
6. For my beautiful home—my whimsy-filled sanctuary where unseen fey folk mysteriously turn on and off the lights and occasionally swipe and hide inexplicable items.
7. That I am not hungry or cold.
8. That I believe in and love myself.
9. For my day job, because it is an incredible blessing that I love what I do and not only don't begrudge the hours I spend at the office but am glad of them.

   

Writing Stuff

New Words:
• 300 on The Stupid Novel.

I want to give a huge "thank you!" to everyone who answered the eleventh hour plea for volunteers and came out to help rescue fifteen pallets of Meisha Merlin books last week! Y'all rawk.

This past weekend was a three-dayer for me, since we Georgia government employees get Confederate Memorial Day off. Yep, Confederate Memorial Day. And how exactly does one celebrate Confederate Memorial Day? By bathing a skunk, of course!

It actually went better than usual. I did not get smacked in the face by a sudsy tail—the first time that hasn't happened, I might add. And, while Hobkin was obviously displeased at being plunked into a bathtub full of lukewarm water and lathered up with baby shampoo, he put up less of a fuss about it than we know from experience he's capable of. Also, he did not (this time) go running amok through the house afterwards, collecting dust mice and lint in his still-damp, newly washed fur.

Of course, I was compelled to snap a couple pictures to compound the indignity of his ordeal:

Doesn't he look piteous?

"Umf. Must escape bathtub!"

   

Writing Stuff

New Words/Editing:
• Back to work on WiP, "Morozko." A major editing pass to hack out around 500 superfluous words and then hammer out 600 new ones gives me a net gain of 100 words. Making progress.
• 1400 on "Cthulhu Editing."
• 550 on a new story that I started just to get some words going. It worked, but I'm not sure if I've enough enthusiasm to see this one through. Had a bunch of imagery that needed an outlet, but the story's pretty nebulous.

Published:
• "Daughter of Bòtú" in the August, 2008 issue of Realms of Fantasy. Yay! Actually, I don't think the issue's out yet (haven't received my contrib. copies). But I got to see an e-ARC. Happy shiny.

So I got a phone call a couple weeks ago from the publisher of BBI Media letting me know that my story, "A Nose for Magic," is a finalist in the Pagan Fiction Award contest and is slated for publication in their anthology. Unfortunately, I missed the call and it went to my voice mail, but she left a return number. So the next day, I called back . . . and got her voice mail. In addition to leaving a message, I sent her an email.

Several days passed as I gnawed my fingertips (as my nails have, long, long ago, been worn to nubbins). Realizing I needed my fingertips to type with, I emailed the editor.

Crickets chirping.

Agh! Had I been smited by the gods of communication? Had it been a mistake? Did my story actually suck, and they dialed my number in error? Aghhh! *twitch*

But then last night, I got the official press release:

PanGaia Magazine and Llewellyn Publications are pleased to announce the finalists from the Pagan Fiction Award contest. These thirteen stories, listed alphabetically by title, earned the top scores:

• "The Bitter Herbs of Camelot" by A.C. Fisher Aldag
• "Black Doe" by Vylar Kaftan (Yay! Another score for fellow Launchpadee and all around rawking grrl, Vy!)
• "Dead and (Mostly) Gone" by Deborah Blake
• "Draw Down" by Alex Bledsoe
• "From Our Minds to Yours" by C.S. MacCath
• "A Nose for Magic" by Eugie Foster
• "The Rune Hag's Daughter" by Linda Steele (endelarin)
• "Seabird" by Paula R. Stiles
• "Selk River" by Melodie Bolt
• "Silkie's Diary" by A.C. Fisher Aldag
• "Under a Double Rainbow" by Sophie Mouette (safirasilv's alter ego)
• "A Valkyrie Among Jews" by April
• "We Have Come Home" by A.L. Waldron

First, second, and third prize winners chosen from this list of finalists will be announced at Pantheacon, taking place in San Jose, California February 15-18, 2008.

The stories will appear in a book titled Pagan Fiction Anthology: 13 Best New Pagan Voices to be published by Llewellyn in October 2008.

I'm verily pleased that this story found a good home. It was inspired by and features Hobkin. So, herein, a couple pictures of my non-crack-whore, fuzzy muse:

A close-up of Hobkin's inspirational nose.

   

(More) Writing Stuff

Received:
• Note from the Cricket folks letting me know that my story, "When Shakko Did Not Lie," is slated for publication in their January 2008 issue. Woot!

New Words/Editing:
• An editing pass to get my focus back and 250 words on "White Rabbit" (4750/5500). Although the word count was pretty unimpressive, I made good headway on the story progression. I guess I should listen to my crack-whore muse when she drags her feet. I needed a scene in there to establish foreshadowing, and I didn't realize it. Now that it's there, I think the rest will progress at a good clip. I hope. I'd really like to get this baby to zero draft by week's end.

With most of my Dragon*Con post-convention to-do items squared away, things are finally settling back into what serves as manageable routine for me. I've still got too many hamsters in the air, but not so many that I'm perpetually in a state of stressed out frenzy. I'd much rather be busy than bored, but another month like August would send me, twitching and whimpering, to the comforts of my very own padded cell. This year has been hella manic. And I'm still behind on a couple very outstanding projects . . .

Hobkin has started putting on his winter coat, and he's been gaining a bit of weight. Ergo, it's official; he's metamorphosing from a cranky Summer Skunk into a laid back Autumn Skunk, although there's still plenty of episodes of huffing and stomping at Chez Foster. The fuzzwit only becomes truly mellow when he's a Winter Skunk. But his thicker, softer coat is a delight to snuggle with, and even though I get anxious about too much weight gain, the plump look suits him:

( clickie for more: )

In other news, yakdog and co. have invited me and fosteronfilm to be guests at Play On Con, a new SF convention in Birmingham, Alabama, debuting over the July 4th weekend next year (2008). Of course we agreed, plus I believe they've also invited jackzodiac to be a guest, and where Davey goes, fun is guaranteed to ensueth.

   

Writing Stuff

I'll be conducting an online workshop, "Worldbuilding for Writers: Transporting Readers Beyond the Ordinary," during October, sponsored by the Carolina Romance Writers Association. Registration: CRW members - $15; Non-CRW members - $20.
Deadline: Sept. 25.

Received/Published:
- Saw that Absolute Write reprinted my article, "Ten Myths About Writing for Kids" (in two parts), in August, and before I could even go "hmm, I wonder when they'll pay me," I got a "you've got cash" email from PayPal. Yay!

New Words:
- Almost 400 words on "Change of Heart" after a detailed rewrite request from mroctober, including an appeal for a new title. It seems that I overdid it in my effort to establish and maintain an exciting pace in my first version, and it ended up coming across not so much exciting as frenetic. Snartleblast. This is a first, an editor saying a story read too fast. Hoping it's not a trend. Pacing is such a tricksy element to do well.

Nearly finished with the rewrite, and the new title (subject, as always, to editorial decree) shall be "Requiem Duet, Concerto for Flute and Voodoo."

Busy busy busy, erg. So here's a couple pix (taken from my new-but-crappy camera phone) of Hobkin as a mouse pad. Stuff on My Skunk! And yes, an optical mouse will work atop a skunk . . . sorta.

I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?

   

Writing Stuff

Published:
- My August Writing for Young Readers column is now up: "An Interview with Tansy Rayner Roberts of Shiny."

New Words:
- 300 words on short story WiP, "Hollow."

1,980 / 4,000 (49.5%)

Slept pretty crappy last night. Don't think I would've gotten to sleep at all, except fosteronfilm saw I was having a bad night and came over to cuddle me and rub my back. I lubs my hubby. Of course, then I had disturbing dreams (that I can't remember now--which is probably just as well), and I've got a sinus headache. Blah. Not a good start to the week.

But, so this post isn't just me whining, here's a picture of Hobkin, who does not suffer from insomnia:

   

Writing Stuff

This weekend wasn't as productive, writing-wise, as I thought it was going to be. fosteronfilm was planning on attending a director's workshop, and I figured I'd spend the time he was gone writing. But his workshop was canceled at the last minute, and I spent my time catching up on Tangent and other outstanding writing-related tasks . . . but not actually writing. Sigh.

On an up note, my home office isn't a safety hazard anymore, just an obstacle course. But at least all the books, magazines, and loose paper are now in tidy stacks rather than strewn in a perilous mess on the floor.

I need to get back on the words-on-the-page horse, or err, hamster.

Published:
- "Beauty's Folly" in issue #5 of OSC's InterGalactic Medicine Show. I'm sharing a ToC with Peter S. Beagle!
- "The Center of the Universe" in issue #5 of Helix
- "The Life and Times of Penguin" (reprint) in Part III, the Summer 2007 issue of Farrago's Wainscot.

Received:
- Note from Aberrant Dreams that "Living with a Shoulder Monster" will be published in July. Yay!
- Email from mroctober with the preliminary cover art for the Magic in the Mirrorstone anthology. It's puuuurty:

Wingstubs hurt. Much writing to do. So here's a picture of Hobkin from last night. He climbed up and flopped his head on my foot:

He stayed like this until my foot and leg fell asleep, and I was forced to move him. I set him at his more customary position at my side, where he was more than happy to resume his nap.

I am naught but a skunk pillow.

   

Writing Stuff

The interview lynnejamneck did with me is now up at Strange Horizons.

Received:
- Request from Amy Boxio-Andrews to interview me for Absolute Write. Of course I said "yes."

New Words:
- 930 on the Fox Princess novel.

13,950 / 40,000 (34.9%)

Club 100 for Writers: 7

The vet called yesterday with the blood panel results, and Hobkin officially has a clean bill of health. The vet used such words as "great" to describe how the fuzzwit's numbers look and said we were doing a really good job with him. Yay!

This is a healthy skunk, so sayeth the vet:

   

Writing Stuff

Did research this weekend, lots for the novel and a little for my May Writing for Young Readers column (ack, I really need to crank that out and send it off already). Got on a roll on Saturday re: novel. My main concern is that I haven't got a solid feel for my main character yet. I've been loading up on clinical descriptions and case studies of autism and Asperger's, but I was still experiencing a sort of distance from her, when I really want to get into her head so I can understand who she is and what she's like, not just what she'll do.

Plus, I really want to like her too. I mean, I've written stories about characters who I didn't have that rapport with, but for a longer work like this, I think I need to have it. And really, the best stories I've written have been ones where I completely empathize with and know my protagonist. But in order to reach that level of awareness requires a certain intimacy and a thorough understanding of what makes her tick; I gotta be able to step into her head completely and seamlessly in order to be able to show who she is to readers.

And hurray, finally, finally, I came across what I've been lacking, an excellent first-person account of someone who has Asperger's--an inside look at an Aspie's feelings, thoughts, perceptions, and insights. And y'know, it made me wonder even more whether I might fall into the autistic spectrum myself. There was so much there where I found myself nodding along going, "yep, I grok it." It's by no means a new speculation for me, but it made me go "hmmm" even more.

And following that bit of reading and rumination, there was cat waxing.

Sigh. Well, at least it was productive cat waxing. Since the beginning of the year, with session and all, I've let my files get totally out of order. Normally my organization system is meticulous, but I had four months worth of contracts, correspondences, and rejections strewn around the house, scattered in haphazard piles in my office, lying where I'd opened them in the living room, and dumped in amongst the bills and receipts by an exasperated fosteronfilm (who doesn't know what to do with my sundry writing paperwork and is generally leery of moving it). Spent several hours sorting everything and filing documents in their proper places. Cheers for getting that taken care of. And now I have no excuse not to crank out wordage.

Published:
- "The Goddess Queen's Battlefield" in the Spring Equinox issue (#2) of GrendelSong. Woot!

This story was inspired by the Suzanne Vega song, "The Queen and the Soldier," which, in turn, was introduced to me by britzkrieg. So bows to both Suzanne Vega and britzkrieg for their key roles in summoning my muse.

Contents:
"The Goddess Queen's Battlefield" by Eugie Foster
"Maixgloan" by Christopher Heath
"Pretty Mary" by Samantha Henderson
Featured Poet: Catherynne M. Valente
"Contraception throughout the ages and cultures: a short overview for a fantasy writer" by E. Sedia
"The Gods-forsaken World" by Steve Goble
"The Glaring Inaccuracies of the Bards" by Berrien C. Henderson
"By the Light of the Dark" by Stephanie Burgis

New Words:
- 1020 on The Novel: working title Fox Princess.

And so it begins.

1,020 / 40,000 (2.5%)

The legislature adjourned sine die on Friday at midnight. elemess and terracinque escorted me to the House Gallery to witness a legislative tradition. As the session winds to an end--characterized by an auctioneer-esque introduction of bills on the calendar by the Speaker and rapid-fire voting*--the Representatives start ripping up bills until they've amassed big piles of confetti. When the Speaker announces sine die and thumps his gavel to adjourn the session, they toss these into the air, creating a joyful blizzard of paper. It was very festive, and I wish I'd had my camera. I'd actually brought it to the capitol with me, but in the rush to the gallery, I forgot it. But elemess went back to get his and captured the confetti flurry.

And so, in a whirlwind of fluttering paper, it's official. I survived my first session!

To celebrate, we took Hobkin to the vet yesterday. Yah, it wasn't so much to celebrate, but we'd been putting it off until after session to make sure I could be there.

As vet visits go, it wasn't too bad, certainly not as traumatic as last time, thanks almost completely to Sevoflurane (Ultane). Yep, we gassed Hobkin so the vet could do the exam. fosteronfilm and I were very hesitant about it, as neither of us liked the idea of Hobkin being put under a general anesthesia. But Hobkin huffed and growled at the vet as soon as he got close to him--after letting strangers pet him in the waiting room without even blinking. It was pretty obvious the lil guy wasn't going to let the vet touch him without a major fight. So, weighing gassing him versus totally stressing him out by having to restrain him, the gas seemed like a better idea. We didn't like it, but, hell, animals have died from heart attacks from the stress of being restrained too. Plus, Sevoflurane is safer even than Isoflurane, which was the gold standard in safe anesthesia gases.

They rolled in a portable gas unit. I insisted upon being the one to restrain Hobkin and hold the mask over his face to put him under. Frankly, I don't think anyone else could've done it as the fuzzwit didn't like the apparatus or the sweet smell of the initial oxygen and fought it. But he's less likely to freak out if I'm holding him, and he'll tolerate being restrained best from me. The vet gave him the lightest dose possible, so light in fact that Hobkin woke up at the needle prick when the vet tried to draw blood (and failed). I was actually glad that Hobkin woke up, so I knew how lightly he was under. 'Course they had to increase the concentration then to get him under again, but I knew he wasn't out deep.

There were two vet assistants helping, one of which I really liked. He kept his hand on Hobkin the whole time he was out, with a finger right over his heart to make sure it was still going strong. And when the vet couldn't draw blood after several tries, he handed the needle over to this assistant who got it on his first try.

Poor Hobkin. I've had less-than-stellar phlebotomy experiences where they've had to jab me multiple times and moved the needle around trying to find my vein. I suspect he's probably sore and possibly bruised today.

The vet was able to do a complete exam while Hobkin was out, including a good look at his teeth. I peered over the vet's shoulder so I could see them too. Normally, I'm limited to gazing into Hobkin's mouth when he yawns and pulling his lips back when he's asleep to check his gums. I saw tartar and a bit of redness, but the vet said that he looks pretty good, better than a lot of five-year-olds skunks he's seen, and that he doesn't need to have his teeth cleaned yet. He recommended we try Pounce Tartar Control cat treats since Hobkin's ambivalent about the Greenies.

Then they switched him to oxygen, and Hobkin snapped right awake--looking quite startled, like he had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. I cuddled him, Matthew paid our bill, and home we went.

I think Hobkin's a little grumpy at us. And skunks do a pretty good miffed:

After stomping at us and doing a couple skunk laps around the house, he scampered under the hutch to sulk:

But he came out later to snuggle and sleep with me after dinner, so it seems we're forgiven. And we should get the results of his blood work back tomorrow.

---

* Which is amusing to listen to and watch until one realizes that nearly all the bills are passing without any sort of discussion or debate. But at least those bills should be Conference Committee substitutes which, theoretically, have been hashed out in committee.

   

Writing Stuff

Did some more novel research. Gearing up for the effort. Trying to set myself reasonable word count goals. If I can manage 500 words a day (assuming 5 days of writing a week), I should be able to complete a 40K YA novel in 4 months. Theoretically.

Received:
- Galley proofs from Darker Matter for "The End of the Universe."
Three painfully near misses:
- 19-days to a "We really like this story, and we held it until the final cut. Typeface, however, is notoriously inelastic, which forces us to return stories we might otherwise have bought" from the Sword & Sorceress 22 anthology. Wah! I'd really thought this one was a good fit. And I would have loved to have broken into this fantasy institution anthology series.
- 7-day "This is charming, whimsical, and funny, but . . ." from Spacesuits & Sixguns with a charming, whimsical, and funny invite to submit again.
- 61-day "After a great deal of discussion, we ultimately decided to pass on it. We liked this story a lot, but . . . " from Shiny with a "would love to see more submissions from you."

Ouch, ouch, and ouch. While these types of rejects are far better than say-nothing forms, and I greatly appreciate the editors taking the time to give me a nod and kind word, they're also absolutely agonizing.

It's Hobkin's birthday! The fuzzwit is five years old today. According to American Domestic Skunk Association skunk show standards, five years qualifies as a senior skunk. So far, Hobkin doesn't show any signs of slowing down. Thankfully.

We're baking a cherry pie for him to celebrate his birthday. He'll get a small slice. I anticipate sticky paws . . . and nose and fur.

Big smile for the camera!

( Clickie for more birthday-skunk pix )

   

Writing Stuff

Received:
- 48-day (reprint) Sale of "The Snow Woman's Daughter" to Escape Pod (or possibly their new, as-of-yet-untitled Fantasy spin-off podcast 'zine). Yay!
- Confirmation from Dragon*Con of my guest status for 2007.

Published:
- My April Writing for Young Readers column: "An Interview with Judy Burke of Highlights for Children".

New Words:
- 1000 on the Persian fairy tale retelling. Nearly at zero draft. It's several hundred words longer than what I was aiming for, but I'm hoping to do some cutting in editing.

2,294 / 2,000 (114.7%)

My cunning plan to go easy on the caffeine yesterday worked, and lo, sleep was had. I conked out right after dinner and didn't so much as stir when fosteronfilm flashy-thinged me with the camera. Hobkin helped. Napping skunks exude a sleepy aura that drags anyone with them into slumber mode who's directly in contact with them, and Hobkin flopped upon me with much determination:

But this morning, I'm back to suckling at the java teat. Mmm, coffee.

   

Writing Stuff
Not much was accomplished yesterday on the writing front due to the diminished levels of caffeine in my bloodstream, but my resting subconscious did engage with the muse. I woke this morning with the realization that I need to add a scene to the last segment of "Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast" in order to properly "sell" the finale. Plan to get cracking on that once the caffeine molecules start with the happy bonding at my adenosine receptors.

New Words:
- A mere 300 or so on "By Oak, Bramble, and Metro," the MARTA-inspired story I'm writing for squirrel_monkey's urban fantasy anthology. Thankfully, I have until the end of December to get it to her, not, as I feared, the beginning.

Received/Published:
- Got my contrib. copies of the Feb. 2007 issue of Realms of Fantasy:

I'm in awesome company! Check out the fiction ToC:

"Three Wishes" by Bruce Holland Rogers
"Looking After Family" by Carrie Vaughn
"Spare Change" by Chuck Rothman
"Syren" by Graham Edwards
"The Devil and Mrs. Comstock's Snickerdoodles" by Eugie Foster
"Number of the Bus" by Jay Lake
"Circus Circus" by Eric M. Witchey
"In the Thicket, With Wolves" by Josh Rountree

Lori Koefoed illustrated my story:

I'm tickled. The kitty depicted was actually inspired by Hobkin, and while the resemblance is faint--different species and all--my skunk muse frequently lounges in that exact posture.

Blah. Woke up at 4AM this morning. The motion detector light went off outside and made it seem like twilight to my fuddled senses, thereby rousing me. Since I was awake, I decided to check email and then go back to sleep. Big mistake. Huge. Checked email, and three hours later, I was still awake, so went upstairs to work in the library. Now the dearth of sleep is hitting me, but if I nap now, I'll lose the day.

Should I take an Adderall and have some tea or go back to sleep? Decisions, decisions.

My brain's too muzzy to be coherent, therefore I give you skunk pictures:

With Hobkin, it's often a puzzle figuring out which end is the head. fosteronfilm calls him a skunk-fungus when he's like this--striped mushroom skunk. Yep
( Click for head shots: )

   

Writing Stuff
Took on another freelance job on a trial basis--to see if I like the gig and if the client likes my work. The pay's not nearly as good and the assignment isn't as interesting as the last one, but it's money.

Wingstubs hurting me a lot these last couple days. Not helping my stymied writing mindset. But, since it hurts to make words, I give you pictures!

It's Hobkin's birthday tomorrow. The lil guy will be four years old.

Hmm. He looks a bit depressed. Is four a big milestone year among skunks, I wonder?

I don't think he wants a lot of fanfare for this birthday. I bet he'll feel differently when it's cake time.

   

Writing Stuff
Published:
I saw on the Galaktika website that #193 is out with my story "All in My Mind" in it, in Hungarian. Looking forward to getting my contrib. copies . . . and check. The cover's very SFnal shiny:

Received:
- An editing tweak request for my Aegri Somnia story, "Nothing of Me." Pondering.
- Note from the Modern Magic editor asking me to confirm my mailing address for my contrib. copy. Must be getting close now . . .

Yep, I'm a grown-up adult (so says my driver's license and mortgage). But it's the comforts I treasured as a child that inevitably give me peace when I'm seeking a bit of serenity, not the more sophisticated pleasures I've acquired a taste for--which, while enjoyable and enervating, can't give me that tranquility I remember taking for granted as a little girl. I'm fully convinced that we are who we were, no matter how many years we rack up. It's the folks who suppress their childhood indulgences who are deceiving themselves.

Insight brought on by a Saturday spent pandering to my inner child, starting off with a several hour marathon of Saturday morning cartoons. Ever since I was a wee girl, I have loved spending Saturday mornings camped out on the floor in front of the TV, basking in animated goodness. Sure with the cartoon network, the Disney channel, and other cable cartoon outlets, I can (and often do) watch cartoons whenever I like, but there's something special about waking up on Saturday for them.

Netflix sent both Madagascar and MirrorMask. Perfect inner child food.

I'd heard some questionable reviews about Madagascar, and I'm way underwhelmed by Chris Rock and Ben Stiller, so I went in not expecting much, but I ended up totally charmed. The penguins were brilliant, but even the Rock/Stiller dyad was well done. And, of course, the various homages stuck in for the parents to appreciate were gigglesome. Very much enjoyed it.

MirrorMask was gorgeous. I loved the fairy tale mood, although there was a certain "This is a metaphor! *bam bam* We're being deep! *thump*" happening too. But aside from the ham-fisted extolling to revel in the symbolism NOW, it was absolutely lovely. Reminded me of Labyrinth, which I guess is an inevitable comparison, since the hand of Henson was in both. But MirrorMask is an older, more sophisticated movie than Labyrinth, with characters that are unnerving and alluring instead of just cute and fluffy.

And I got a package in the mail from zhai, a GoPets t-shirt for Hobkin! An opportunity to inflict "dress up" upon the fuzzwit. Mega thanks, zhai!

Now Hobkin isn't exactly receptive to the idea of wearing clothes, so my first foray into getting him into the shirt was a dismal failure:

"You want me to do what? No way."( More pix of the epic struggle: )

But I'm not giving up. I'm waiting to ambush him when he's sleeping.

   

Writing Stuff

Received:
- Word from Spider magazine that "The Tax Collector's Cow" has been slotted for their June '06 issue. Yay!
- Email from my Aberrant Dreams editor that "Nobodies and Somebodies" is slated for their July issue, so I've got plenty of time to work on the rewrite.

Also a call to spread the word that they're trying to find a local (i.e. Georgian) artist to do a color illustration for a new project they're about to embark on. Without giving away the details prematurely, this artist would be asked to illustrate a new story written by Mary Rosenblum, S.P. Somtow, Alastair Reynolds, or me. So if you're a Georgian artist who would like the opportunity to break into the fantasy illustration biz, drop my editor, Ernie Saylor, a line.
- A bunch more crits for "Honor is a Game Mortals Play" (thanks wbledbetter, wistling, keesa_renee, and dream_wind!). I'm now no longer classifying it as being "well received," but have bumped it into the being "glowingly received" category. Happiness.

Editing:
Editing continues apace on "Honor is a Game Mortals Play.

Hobkin is a very silly animal. I went downstairs yesterday after working in the library all day to discuss and start dinner prep with fosteronfilm, then made to go back upstairs to lug down the interim desktop I was using while my laptop was in the shop. I wanted to hook it to our network and retrieve the files stranded on it, but the fuzzwit apparently thought I was going back up to work for another cluster of hours and was dismayed. The little guy started squeaking.

It's the silliest sound I have ever heard an animal make--like a wheel in desperate need of oil on helium. Of course, I turned right around and went back to reassure and cuddle him (leaving fosteronfilm to retrieve and set up the computer). I can't post the sound he made, but here's a picture that illustrates how Hobkin is so not an animal of dignity and grace:

I wonder if this is the skunk equivalent of "Live long and prosper"?

   

Writing Stuff
It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do to quell a minor freakout. I'm feeling much better, totally over my quakes and anxiety.

When I woke up, my head was brimming with ideas for how to simplify the opening of my novel to make it more accessible to a younger audience, as well as thoughts on how to block out the chapters I've currently got into panels and picture pages. It seems like my sleeping self has made my decision for me. Barring some unforeseen weirdness, I'm going to go for the picture book effort. I was pretty much headed there, but it's reassuring to know my unconscious is in sync with my conscious.

I find I'm rather looking forward to the challenge of preparing a picture book manuscript out of my novel. At least I won't have to wring my brain coming up with new characters or settings or story lines. It doesn't hurt that I am utterly enchanted by the idea of having my tale accompanied by lavish, beautiful illustrations.

The editor is sending me her notes and a few examples from her publishing house of what she has in mind to give me an idea of the length, complexity, and scope I should aim for. I'm going to wait to see these before I start (and before I give them my official "I'm game"), but in the interim, I'm re-reading my novel to once again familiarize myself with the voice and mood I used, as well as any details I may have forgotten since the last time I looked it over.

In the next couple days, I'm going to try to clear off as much Tangent and The Town Drunk work from my plate as I can, as well as try to check off all the outstanding stray issues hovering about my "things to do" list. I want to be able to approach this project with focused concentration at the start. So if folks need me for something and have been holding off on dropping me a line, better do so now while I'm in rapid-fire-just-do-it mode.

I'm very glad I finished the first draft of "Honor is a Game Mortals Play" so I'm not having to ping-pong back and forth between these two projects. Barring a deluge of critiques of the "this-totally-sucks you-call-yourself-a-writer? Hah!" variety coming back on it, I anticipate the rewrite will go smoothly. I typically find rewrites fairly easy on my writer muscles . . . I say as I gear up to embark upon the biggest "rewrite" I've ever contemplated. Erm.

Received:
The editor of Dragonfly Spirit sent me a sneak peek of the March cover. The artwork features my story, "Kaawwa, Naagan, and the Queen’s Diamond Necklace"! She also kindly gave me permission to display it:

Isn't it gorgeous? And again, I'm reminded how much I love seeing beautiful artwork come about as a result of the words I scribble on the page. Were I one to believe in signs and portents delivered from the Great Beyond, I would see this as a really good one.